


Chapter 3 - Breakfast in the Bunker

by Writer_Lethogica



Series: Invincible Summer [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:52:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Lethogica/pseuds/Writer_Lethogica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has enough problems to deal with - the gates of heaven closing, angels walking amongst humans, Zeke secretly living inside of Sam, Abaddon gaining power amongst the demons, Crowley under his roof, and Cas alone in the world. Dean doesn't have time for another problem. But he can't just throw her out on the street, especially not in the sorry state she's in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter 3 - Breakfast in the Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Vandigo, for beta-ing this chapter, it was very helpful. :) Now, I hope y'all enjoy the next installment of this Fanfic. :)

Deanna walked in with one of Dean’s old Led Zeppelin t-shirts and shorts too big for her, all smiles.

“Can I keep this? My favorite songs used to be Ramble On and Travelling the Riverside Blues. Strangely enough, my favorite songs right now are I’m All Out of Love by Air Supply and Believe It or Not by Joey Scarbury, but Led Zeppelin’s still one of my favorite bands,” said Deanna.

“You like classic rock?” asked Dean, finishing up the waffles.

“Who doesn’t? Weirdos, that’s who. I love classic rock! I dabble in alternative rock too, but for the most part, I stick to the classics,” said Deanna, sitting down at the table in the kitchen. Dean walked over with a plate of cinnamon pumpkin waffles.

“ _Alternative music_?” said Dean incredulously.

“You know, Upper Eastside Soweto like Vampire Weekend, post-punk revival like Two Door Cinema Club, stuff like that,” said Deanna. Dean sat down, trying to understand the music Deanna was trying to describe to him.

“You…You don’t have to understand what I’m saying—dude, just know I love classic rock the most,” Deanna said, taking a bite of the waffles, “Oh my god, these are crazy good! I wish I could cook like this.”

Dean smiled at her, taking a bite off of her plate.

“Maybe if we get the time, we can cook together,” said Dean. Deanna’s eyes lit up.

“I would like that.”

For a moment, they sat there, smiling at each other as they ate the waffles. The sounds of creaking could be heard in the kitchen as the door opened.

“ _There is no friend like an old friend who has shared our morning days, no greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise_! Greetings and salutations, new comrade!” said Deanna, grinning and turning to Kevin. Kevin jumped a bit, awkwardly keeping a distance between himself and Deanna as he walked to the fridge.

“Don’t quote Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. at me, we’re not old friends. We’re not friends. You ruined _Harry Potter_ for me. I’m scarred for life because of you,” said Kevin, taking orange juice out and pouring some into a cup.

“Oh, give it a rest, you dweeb,” said Dean and Deanna at the same time. They looked at each other and gave each other an approving nod. Kevin looked from Dean to Deanna.

“I don’t think I’m going to like this,” said Kevin, walking out of the kitchen with his orange juice.

“Hey, wait, Kevin, do you want some waffles? I just made these great waffles—cinnamon pumpkin waffles with your choice whipped cream, maple syrup, strawberry syrup, or chocolate syrup. If you want to go crazy with it, you can mix and match or use everything,” said Dean.

“You have strawberry syrup? Dude, I’m getting that, I want to try these waffles with it,” said Deanna, walking over to the fridge. Kevin sighed, walking back into the room in surrender as Dean handed him a plate of waffles. Sam walked into the room, yawning and stretching.

“Howdy, there, lovely hair,” said Deanna, “Dude, did you go running? I know Henry David Thoreau says _an early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day_ , but if you’re not being chased, why are you out their exercising and what not?”

Dean smiled at her.

“I’m really starting to like you, you know that?” said Dean. Deanna grinned back at him.

“Awesome. And here, I was afraid you were going to be some assbutt with a self-righteous complex. I’m glad you didn’t turn out like that,” said Deanna.

“Are you seriously going to let her treat her uncle like this, Dean?” asked Sam. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay—Deanna, don’t talk like that to Uncle Sammy, okay?”

Deanna didn’t seem to care, though. She stood up and ran over to Sam, hugging him tightly. At first, Sam was frozen, awkwardly standing there, but slowly…he hugged her back.

“ _Uncle Sam_. I’m so happy I have an uncle,” said Deanna. Sam rubbed her head.

“I’m glad I have a niece too,” said Sam. Deanna moved away.

“Okay, no more of this touchy feely stuff. I’m not really with the whole, uh, love, and…love…and I really just don’t have time for this gush, stop crowding me, you’re harshing my vibe, Jeez,” rambled Deanna, blushing profusely and moving away awkwardly from Sam. Kevin grinned.

“So you do get uncomfortable,” said Kevin. Deanna turned to him with a look that said she was ready to intimidate.

“ _It’s hard to take him at his word,/or hers: Speak up! Proclaim! You want to say./It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard,/hard to admit one sharp as you is stirred. You need to back off, cool down, act blasé_ ,” said Deanna. Kevin groaned.

“Stop quoting poetry at me.”

Deanna kept grinning.

“Glad you knew it was poetry. You know Richard Hoffman?”

Kevin began to slink out of the room once more, saying, “Leave me alone!”

Deanna followed him, grinning from ear to ear as she relished making him discombobulated.

“ _Let us rhapsodize, my little pedal pushers,/over Gershwin, over Callas, over Blind Lemon Jefferson,/over boogie woogie, big band, Bartók, the blues. Get out your bicycle, Herr Wittgenstein, roll out your Lincoln, Mr. Kafka, you handsome/shivering hunk of paranoia and nerves_ …”

Deanna’s voice faded as she went deeper and deeper into the bunker. Dean just sat in his seat, a faint smile on his face as he shook his head.

“What is she even saying? Is she quoting something?” asked Dean, turning his gaze to Sam. Sam shrugged.

“Probably. Sounds like something quotable. She’s sort of a mean kid, though,” said Sam.

“Oh, she’s rough around the edges, but I’m sure she means well. She’s just messing with Kevin, though. I remember when I used to mess with people,” said Dean, as he thought back to fond memories of poking and prodding at other kids.

“ _You_ were sort of a mean kid too,” said Sam, sitting down as he grabbed a plate of waffles.

“Hey, teasing is an okay thing to do. Everyone gets a laugh from it,” said Dean, finishing his waffles. He began to pick up the left behind plates, heading towards the sink.

“If you say so, Dean,” said Sam. Deanna popped back in, glancing over at the sink.

“You want me to wash the dishes? I can, you know,” said Deanna, walking over to Dean. Dean glanced at her, then back to the plates.

“Nah, I’ve got this,” said Dean. Deanna leaned on the counter, nodding.

“I do have a couple of questions for you, though.”

Deanna eyed Dean, then walked over to take a seat at the table.

“I’ll answer anything you want me to answer,” said Deanna. Sam looked from Deanna to Dean. Dean motioned that it was okay for him to talk.

“Deanna, how did you find us?” asked Sam.

“Well, it took a while, but Raziel managed to find where you were, or at least, the area you were in,” said Deanna. Sam and Dean looked at each other, silence filling a moment.

“She’s smart like that,” Deanna blurted awkwardly, “That Raziel.”

A smile grew on her face.

“Raziel,” said Dean, “That was the angel you talked about earlier, right?”

Deanna nodded.

“You know angels are multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent—they don’t have genders. They’re genderless. Junkless.”

Sam turned, giving Dean a look.

“What, it’s true,” Dean said in more of a loud whisper than anything.

“Junkless? So they’re ‘hir’s, then?” asked Deanna, tilting her head in thought. Dean looked at her confused.

“Hir?”

“You know, hir. A gender neutral term.”

“Uh, I guess so,” said Dean. He was still getting used to the fact that there were such things as genderless beings, much less terms for them. He was getting better at it.

Deanna nodded, soaking up the information and getting used to the idea.

“And was Raziel helping you? How did Raziel know where we were?” asked Dean.

“What do you think I am, an angel whispere—”

Suddenly, She went limp. Her head hit the table. Snoring ensued.

“Son of a bitch,” whispered Dean.

“She’s a narcoleptic,” said Sam, stunned. Dean didn’t know what to say. Then, he remembered something.

“Cas used to visit me in my dreams.”

“Ew, no, I don’t want to know about this—”

“Not like that, Sammy—Seriously, do you think the only thing I think about is sex? No, hir used to visit me, talk to me, tell me things I needed to know or just sit with me on a dock as I dreamed of fishing in peace, or perhaps I’d be in a field with fireworks and hir would come, smiling, and just enjoy my company as we each lit fireworks, or…or…”

Dean suddenly felt very insecure.

“Anyways, hir used to visit me in my dreams, shut up.”

Sam was giving Dean a look that made Dean feel even more naked, but the look quickly faded when Sam broke eye contact for a moment.

“So…do you think this Raziel is making her fall asleep at will then? Can an angel do that? Are there any angels who still have enough power to _do something_ like that?” asked Sam. Dean sighed, his hands rubbing his face. He didn’t have time for another problem.

“I’m not sure, Sammy. I don’t know what shape all the angels are in after they fell. But I guess anything is possible when it comes to those dicks with wings.”

Suddenly, Deanna woke up.

“Oh, man, my head…Raziel, you need to stop doing that to me!” Deanna said, facing the ceiling.

Dean walked over to the fridge with a washcloth and took out some ice.

“Does hir do that often?” asked Sam. Dean gave Deanna the ice. She put it on the bump that was beginning to show on her forehead.

“No…not usually, only when she… _hir_ …Only when hir needs to talk to me. She couldn’t sense me… _hir_ …I mean _hir_. And hir wanted to make sure I wasn’t dead. By the way, hir’s coming.”

Dean opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the lights turned off.


End file.
